


Kindling

by Kaiyou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week 2017, Canon, First Meetings, M/M, well precanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 10:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10462341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: It's the first week of Bokuto's second year at Fukurodani Academy, and he's terribly excited to see who the new first years are. Hopefully, a lot of them will sign up for the volleyball club. Hopefully one of the new players will be a setter! And maybe, if he's lucky - if he's really, really lucky - one of them will be someone - well. Some things are too much to hope for, right?Maybe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For BokuAka week <3

Bokuto is excited. Well, more excited than he normally is, and that’s saying something. He knows that it’s the third years who will get to officially meet and greet the new volleyball players, but still -

He’s excited.

He remembers how he felt last year at this time, coming to school all eager and excited to sign up for the volleyball club. He’d known he’d be accepted, of course. After all, he was awesome! Great! And yeah, sometimes he gets a little over-enthusiastic, or sometimes he sucks - Konoha calls it being uneven.

(But only when he’s being mean)

(Which is more often than Bokuto likes, but it could be worse, and it isn’t like Konoha is exactly wrong about it anyways)

Luckily most of the second years are pretty supportive of him even when he gets in bad moods. The third years are cruel sometimes, but Sarukui says it’s just because they’re jealous. Their setter always blames Bokuto when his spike is off, even though everyone knows it’s his sets that are the problem.

Probably.

Mainly.

“Maybe one of the first years will be a setter,” Bokuto says, spinning the volleyball between his fingers.

“It could happen,” Komi says, hands behind his head as he stared up at the cherry blossoms.

“Maybe one of them will be a libero,” says Sarukui, hands in his pockets.

“Hey! Are you saying I’m not good enough?” Komi growls, making a face at his friend.

A slow shrug is his only answer, though the grin that slid across Sarukui’s face makes the teasing pretty obvious.

“If there is a libero, maybe he’ll call you senpai!” Bokuto says. “You can teach him and train him and he’ll look up to you! Hey, do you think the first years will call me senpai?”

Sarukui and Komi exchange glances, then say, “No.”

Bokuto hangs his head. He knows they’re teasing. Knows in his mind that he should be thankful they feel comfortable enough with him to tease him but still -

It does sting a little bit. 

Maybe more than a little.

“Konoha said the table was right up here, right?” says Sarukui, seemingly unaware of the minor crisis going on in Bokuto’s head. 

“Yeah! Though - shouldn’t there be more people signing up?” Komi asks. 

“Maybe they’ve already come and gone,” says Sarukui, walking forward.

“Yeah, let’s go see.”

Bokuto lets them go, leaning against one of the trunks. What if no one signs up? They’ll be fine, probably - there are enough second years that it shouldn’t be a problem. Frowning, he holds the volleyball to his chest.

He wants -

No, not just a new player, just -

Someone.

Maybe someone like what Kuroo has with Kenma. A partner, someone he can be friends with, who’ll listen to him. Maybe -

Maybe someone who can be his.

It’s a selfish thought, and he knows it. Knows it and can’t escape it. There’s just this distance between him and his friends. Nothing major, nothing scary. He knows they like him.

He also knows they get tired of him sometimes, and it hurts more than it should.

The sound of pages distract him from his thoughts, and he looks down. Long fingers turning the pages of a magazine. It’s a guy, sitting on the steps next to the tree. Black hair, short with loose curls - and that magazine - oh.

Bokuto knows that spread.

It’s something that one of the local publishers had put together, showcasing the teams in the area and upcoming players. The third years had hated that magazine when it first came out. Bokuto liked it, though - especially liked the picture the photographer had gotten of him, jumping up ready to slam down a spike, face full of determination and drive. His mom had talked about putting the picture up on the wall, she was so proud.

“Pretty cool, eh?” Bokuto says, grinning down at the guy.

“It is impressive,” the boy whispers, so soft that Bokuto almost doesn’t hear him. 

Then he looks up, and Bokuto finds himself speechless.

Those eyes - grey-green, like the dark leaves in one of Bokuto’s mother’s flower arrangements. Cheekbones so high - this boy - oh he’s beautiful. Bokuto can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, tries to will it down. This isn’t how he should react to another guy. He knows it, has steeled himself against showing these types of emotions, but this - he’s never felt anything like it -

“Ah. You are Bokuto-san, are you not?” the boy says, standing up. 

He’s still on the stairs, so Bokuto is looking down at him, but he can tell the other boy is tall. Tall and beautiful, and those hands -

Bokuto’s mind jumps from thoughts of them setting a ball to other thoughts, thoughts of holding, feeling them in his own hands, and it’s too much too soon and what is he thinking - 

The boy looks away. “Ah, I’m sorry. That was presumptuous of me. Forgive my rudeness.”

“What?” Bokuto says. “Ah, no, no! Yes, I’m Bokuto - you don’t need to call me Bokuto-san if you don’t want to, you can call me Koutarou, ah, do you play volleyball? What - your name - um -”

It’s too many words, like his mouth is the door of a subway car and the words are people trying to cram on before it pulls out of the station. Whatever good impression he might’ve made in the magazine is surely lost. Damn -

“Um,” says the boy, curling the magazine in his hands. 

Oh, he’s fidgeting. It’s cute, Bokuto shouldn’t think it’s cute but he does, damn, those fingers again -

Bowing, the boy says, “My name is Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji. Please take care of me.”

Bokuto is speechless. 

He wants to look around, see if someone has put this kid - Akaashi - up to it, but no, it’s real. Akaashi is still looking down, and Bokuto knows he needs to say something because the moment is stretching out into something awkward.

“Uh, hey hey, Akaaashi! Or, um, Akaashi-san? It’s great to meet you! Do you like volleyball? We have a volleyball club here -”

Well of course they do, that’s stupid. He was just reading about it. Idiot, Bokuto is an idiot, and -

“I applied, Bokuto-san. Hopefully, they will accept me,” Akaashi says, glancing over at the table where Konoha is talking with Sarukui and Komi.

“How could they not?” says Bokuto.

Akaashi glances up then, eyes sharp like he’s trying to read the sincerity in Bokuto’s face. Whatever he sees there can’t be all bad, though, because his shoulders relax just a tad as he looks away.

“It is kind of you to say so, Bokuto-san,” says Akaashi.

He’s still fidgeting, but it seems a bit calmer now. - unlike Bokuto’s heart. Every time the boy says his name, he thinks it’s going to jump out of his chest.

Bokuto-san.

It’s never really been something amazing to hear before, but now it is - at least when Akaashi says it. 

“What position do you play?” Bokuto asks, wanting to hear more of Akaashi’s voice. A part of him knows this is foolish and reckless, and there’s probably no chance in hell Akaashi might consider him attractive beyond anything other than his ace and he shouldn’t act weird or drive the kid away but -

He can’t help it.

“Ah, setter, Bokuto-san,” says Akaashi, glancing up again and then down to the ball in Bokuto’s hands.

“Setter,” breathed Bokuto, hardly believing his luck. “Oh, you’re perfect.”

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi said, glancing up.

Terror grips Bokuto’s heart - had that come out wrong? Is he - why is Akaashi still looking at him - didn’t he know that if he kept looking at him like that Bokuto won’t be able to control himself? He might blurt out things that are even more embarrassing. It isn’t like he isn’t used to making a complete fool of himself sometimes, but just -

This time, it matters.

Running a hand through his hair, Bokuto says, “Ah well, um. Our setter - I don’t exactly gel with him? So I was wondering if we’d be getting a new setter this year, uh, especially since this one is graduating, and I’m the ace and all.”

“Ah,” says Akaashi, lips quirking in what Bokuto hopes is amusement. “Well, then it is fortuitous I am a setter, then. That is if my playing is acceptable to you.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be great,” Bokuto says, swallowing as he forces himself to look away. “Um, that is, maybe we should practice some? Uh, see if we’re compatible and all that.”

It’s probably too much to ask. He’s probably already freaked the guy out, Konoha always says he’s too intense for new people -

“I would enjoy that, Bokuto-san. It would be an honor for me to set to you.”

An honor. Oh damn it all, Bokuto is going to lose himself to this one, and he knows it. He’ll have to tell Kuroo all about it, and Kuroo will laugh at him but he’ll finally be able to force Kuroo to listen to him wax poetic about someone instead of just being on the receiving end -

Wait, could he wax poetic?

Looking down into Akaashi’s grey-green eyes, Bokuto is sure he can try.

Later, though.

Grinning widely, Bokuto says, “Well, what are you doing right now?”

A laugh. He gets a laugh. It’s a tiny thing, half-hidden behind the ducking of Akaashi’s head, but it’s there. “I suppose I’m going to go practice with you, Bokuto-san.”

Amazing.

“Awesome! Let’s go - Akaashi, you’re already signed up for the club, right? We can use the gym, I think everyone else went home - oh, maybe we could ask the other’s if they want to join us? If that’s ok with you? I mean -”

The words keep coming, but this time Bokuto doesn’t feel nearly as self-conscious because Akaashi is smiling. It’s a tiny thing, like the warm glow of embers in a fire, but Bokuto would do anything he could to turn it into a raging fire.

Someday.

For now, he will just settle for having made a new friend.

And one day, maybe - 

Well. Only time will tell.


End file.
